


not all those who wander are lost

by limerental



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Still a Witcher, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Being an Idiot, Jaskier | Dandelion Has ADHD, M/M, POV Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Unreliable Narrator, Yennefer has a headache, but secretly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:22:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limerental/pseuds/limerental
Summary: Geralt is an amateur naturalist who spends his time in the local national park documenting flora and fauna. Jaskier is his hapless sidekick with a popular blog detailing their adventures. Yennefer is the beleaguered parks employee continually bailing them out of ridiculous situations who wishes they would just fucking kiss already and maybe leave her alone.Oh yeah, and people are going missing in the community surrounding the park. That's kinda weird.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 36
Kudos: 209





	not all those who wander are lost

Yennefer, surely, is being punished by some Force or Deity that she does not yet know the name of for something awful she can’t remember doing.

There’s no other explanation for the sudden force of buffoonery that has entered her life.

She’s simply trying her best to enjoy a beautiful Sunday off doing nothing at all in particular, cloistered in the dark interior of her RV on the edge of the campground, the blinds pulled tight against the noonday sun. She squints at the grainy tv screen with her bare legs kicked up, bowl of popcorn from last night resting on her chest while her thumbs flick over the controller in her hands.

Yennefer’s phone, lying on the arm of the lumpy couch beside her head, dings with a familiar text alert.

She almost doesn’t bother twisting to read the message, knowing what she’s likely about to get herself into, but against her better judgment, she does so anyway. Immediately regrets it.

> _**DUMBASS:** Jask stuck in water fountain again._

Yennefer presses the screen of her phone against her face and considers ignoring the message. She makes a very good attempt at this for a whole thirty seconds, before more messages light up in quick succession.

> _**DUMBASS:** Hurry._
> 
> _**DUMBASS:** Being very irritating._

She curses under her breath. Thinks of said Dumbass’ impeccable abs.

“Hey, sorry Triss,” she says into her headset. “Gotta go for now.”

There’s the tinny sound of Triss asking if everything’s alright as Yen exits the game, and she reassures her _yeah, yeah, all good. Be back soon hopefully._

She closes her eyes and counts down from ten. Thinks about how nice the Dumbass looks from behind even dressed in ratty cargo shorts.

 _Gods, fuck, I am so fucking stupid. Whichever one of you has cursed me is getting a beating,_ she thinks.

And goes to put on pants.

* * *

She finds the two imbeciles without much trouble.

It should be sad how well she knows each nook and cranny of the Redania National Forest grounds given how quickly she can interpret the location of _the one fountain to the northwest of that American Sycamore. You know, the one with three whorls on the left side of the trunk_.

But she’s worked at the park for years now, starting as a summer internship that ended up a full-time position after her grad school dreams tanked, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

Plus, the Idiot got stuck in that same one last week.

“Hullo,” says the Idiot brightly, as he waves with his free arm. The other is jammed to the shoulder within the open plumbing panel along the back of a stone water fountain. His dark hair and his pale lavender v-neck are slicked to his body with wetness, fresh spurts of water slicking up his shoulder every now and then. “You had a bit of a clog here. Er… you still have a bit of a clog. But now it’s me.”

He looks like a half-drowned dachshund. With a surprising amount of body hair.

The Dumbass stands in crossed-armed silence out of the range of errant sprays of water, looking exasperated and tall and unfairly pretty for a man with that much toned muscle. His white-blonde hair is pulled back in a bun low at his neck, a few scraggly wisps escaping across his forehead and from behind his ears. His arms are bare, the muscle bunching across the span of his very, very broad chest.

“Hi Yen,” says Geralt.

“Hi Geralt,” she says. Attempts not to make her voice sound quite so breathy. “How’s life?”

“Not so bad,” he says. “Would be perfect if not for my completely useless roommate who won’t stop sticking his arm places it doesn’t belong.”

“That does sound like a drag.”

“It sure is.”

“Not to interrupt this wonderful bonding moment,” says Jaskier, a touch of strain in his voice. “But this isn’t exactly comfortable.”

“Should have thought about that before trying to unclog it. With your fist.”

“I almost had it the last time! It’s not my fault this park has abysmal facilities.”

“Then it’s not my fault if we leave you here.”

“ _Ger-_ alt,” the idiot whines. Geralt shifts on his feet. Looks at Yen. The Dumbass is consistently weak to the Idiot’s whining.

“Anything you can do?” he asks.

“He’s a bit farther in than last time,” she says. Which is just. How does one man get stuck _more than once_ in the span of a week within the same fucking water fountain? How has the universe somehow deigned to make this her problem? “Might have to call maintenance.”

She isn’t on the clock, technically, but as somebody of a reasonably high rank within the park, it’s still her job to take care of disturbances like this. Maintain the peace. Ensure the safety of the parkgoers. Whatever.

After a few minutes of standing there dramatically rubbing at her chin and squinting at the Idiot shoved up to the shoulder in the fountain (simply to watch him squirm), she finally gives in and calls park maintenance.

Jaskier has started singing of all things.

“What will we do with a drunken sailor? Whhhaaat will we do with a drunken sailor? Earleyy in the mornin’,” he sings.

“Is that,” says Yennefer, the phone ringing against her ear. “Is that an Assassin's Creed sea shanty?”

“It’s a _real_ sea shanty,” says Jaskier with affront. And continues the song. “Waaay heeyy up she rises. _Waaayyyy_ heeyy up she rises.”

“He sings when he’s nervous,” says Geralt, arms still folded against his chest. “And most times actually.”

“I’m nervous most times,” says Jaskier with a squeak rising in his voice just as Yennefer finally gets through to maintenance.

“Yeah, we’ve got a park guest in some trouble with a water fountain. Yeah. Again, it’s-- I think-- well, possibly you just need to see for yourself,” she says.

After some griping, some well-placed blows with a ratchet, and some lubricant, the long-suffering maintenance folks finally manage to work Jaskier free of the fountain. He falls back on his ass in the packed dirt along the path, rubbing at his shoulder.

“Ouch,” he says. “Well that was an adventure, wasn’t it?”

He’s met with a moody stare from Geralt and Yennefer both.

“How about some lunch then? I’m famished.”

* * *

From what Yennefer has gathered, Geralt’s what they call a hobby naturalist, spending his summers running amok through the park documenting flora and fauna alike and passing his observations onto his peers. Aka his fellows in various local Facebook groups.

He’s been attending Oxenfurt College studying Biology for going on six years but never had great academic success. He tells her all this after the third of fourth time she has fished him and his wayward friend out of trouble. Only a week into their acquaintance.

Something just keeps him from focusing sometimes, especially when he gets fixated on some other more exciting venture, usually something that involves crouching on the forest floor for hours at a time for inconceivable reasons.

The excessive crouching can probably be thanked for how wonderfully toned his thighs and ass look. Yennefer would like to personally thank the excessive crouching.

Jaskier, his hapless sidekick, majors in creative writing and runs a fairly popular blog detailing he and Geralt’s frequent misadventures.

Not that a word of what’s written on the blog is true. Give or take the odd detail.

(“Truth doesn’t make history,” he says with aplomb when pressed.

“It’s not fucking history-making to get stuck in a fucking water fountain.”

“Exactly!”)

Yennefer only knows this thanks to her unfortunate side gig wrangling the park’s social media.

Jaskier’s blog is infuriatingly popular and has led to an upswing of interest in frequenting Redania National Forest, especially among the errant and fickle youths. Which can only be a good thing for the park, so she’s often forced to address a choice entry or two on the park’s Facebook page or twitter and every other message from the public she receives seems to be in reference to the blasted thing.

And she can admit. Begrudgingly. That the way Jaskier writes about the forest and the rivers and the wildlife and the wild-haired, ruggedly handsome, extremely well-formed man he travels with temporarily fills even her shriveled husk of a heart with a sudden zeal for wanderlust or enthusiastic woodland hiking or other such nonsense.

Extremely temporarily, that is. Because despite her current occupation, Yennefer is an indoors person thank you very much. It’s not her fault that academia is a sham and her undergrad Sustainability degree from Aretuza University prepared her for nothing in the real world and she’s now stuck working what most of the time is an exceedingly boring desk job for the rest of her life.

Well. It was exceedingly boring until the Idiot and the Dumbass came along.

Now, it’s likely to send her to an early grave through sheer frustration alone.

* * *

Against her better judgment, Yennefer joins them for lunch on a nearby picnic bench, Jaskier unfolding carefully-crafted sandwiches from their pack.

“Geralt doesn’t like the crust,” says Jaskier as he lays out the perfect wedges of crustless sandwiches on a checked napkin.

“I don’t,” agrees Geralt and grabs more wedges than one man should reasonably be able to eat in one sitting.

Yennefer nibbles at the edge of her own sandwich. It’s surprisingly not terrible. Some kind of mix of egg and ham and garlic aoli and thinly-slice cucumber. She’s never quite sure what kind of bizarre cuisine Jaskier is likely to whip from his pack. She hates that that’s even an anxiety she knows to have.

It’s not as if she actively seeks out these idiots. Would be much happier tucked into the dark of her RV for her precious few days off instead of swanning in to rescue them. Again.

And yet.

“Oh darling,” says Jaskier and gestures at his face. Geralt grunts, lifting an eyebrow. He has mayo smeared across his upper lip. “Hold still.” Jaskier reaches to swipe a finger across his lip, and proceeds to _pops the finger in his mouth_. Geralt, apparently seeing nothing wrong with this terrible occurrence, returns to heartily shoving his sandwich wedges in his mouth. Jaskier also seems to notice nothing out of the ordinary, delicately picking at his own food.

Yen twitches.

These idiots _will_ be the death of her.

Sooner rather than later.

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't supposed to have a plot besides scenes of these two being really really stupid and eventually kissing but oops haha whoopsie


End file.
